


Glass Trophies

by olddarkmachine



Series: For the Love of Football [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, YOU'LL PROBABLY WANNA READ PARTS 1 AND 2 FIRST, and well ya know some football, hoooooonestly probably just plot with porn elements now thanks to that word count, keith is the prickly loner loved by shiro, shiro is the football captain loved by everyone, sorry yall this one has a LOT of feelings you and keith gotta get through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olddarkmachine/pseuds/olddarkmachine
Summary: “You guys should have seen them when I found them the next morning. It was total chaos. I pray for that shirt of yours every day.”Lance’s quickly paced voice had been a constant reminder of Shiro’s betrayal, cutting in and out of Keith’s music as if the deafening decibel level wasn’t meant to drown it out. He stared woefully at the maxed volume on his phone, eye twitching slightly as he willed it to get louder.When Shiro had offered Keith the opportunity to join his friends on a road trip to the National Championship game, he’d conveniently left out the part where Lance was one of those friends. Of course, he knew Keith better than he cared to admit, so he wasn’t even sure he faulted the quarterback for keeping that small bit of information to himself.If he’d known that his own pain and suffering was the equivalent exchange needed to get to the National Championship, he would have at least made Shiro work a little harder for his agreement.





	Glass Trophies

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie wow, can I start by saying that if I didn’t expect the response to Cherries & Whiskey, I hella did not expect the response to #12. I’m completely flabbergasted by all the love they got and the fact folks wanted more! ~~because i did too help im a slave to the football au~~
> 
> Friendly reminder I am just a fan of football so my apologies if the football part is not entirely accurate. You, hopefully, get the gist of it all lol (Also, the banquet is based off the fact UT had one during the Holiday Bowl when I went. Idk if football banquets are common practices at bowls and championships, but let’s just roll with it, okay?)
> 
> This one shot is brought to you largely by Taylor Swift, Apple’s K-Pop playlist, and Chance the Rapper. ~~i added a nod to some TSwizz lyrics in there, can you find it?~~
> 
> ALSO AO3 DOESN'T ALLOW FOR EMOJIS. I did what I could with what I have. You'll know what I mean when you get there.

_“Do you know what you’re doing yet for the National Championship?”_

_“Did I agree to go to that? I think I’m double booked.”_

_“Keith.”_

_“Alright, alright, QB. No, I don’t. Why?”_

_“I’ve got some friends renting a couple of rooms with an extra seat in their ride that would be happy to hook you up.”_

***

**_Did you know that there are people in the world, annoyed with all the other people in the world?_ **

“I get to be best man at the wedding, right?”

**_And of all these angry people in the world—_ **

“I mean, I am the one that got you laid in that beautiful Audi.”

**_—I am the angriest boy._ **

“You guys should have seen them when I found them the next morning. It was total chaos. I pray for that shirt of yours every day.”

Lance’s quickly paced voice had been a constant reminder of Shiro’s betrayal, cutting in and out of Keith’s music as if the deafening decibel level wasn’t meant to drown it out. He stared woefully at the maxed volume on his phone, eye twitching slightly as he willed it to get louder.

When Shiro had offered Keith the opportunity to join his friends on a road trip to the National Championship game, he’d conveniently left out the part where Lance was one of those friends. Of course, he knew Keith better than he cared to admit, so he wasn’t even sure he faulted the quarterback for keeping that small bit of information to himself.

If he’d known that his own pain and suffering was the equivalent exchange needed to get to the National Championship, he would have at least made Shiro work a little harder for his agreement.

It wasn’t that Keith hadn’t wanted to go to the championship game. The real here problem was that he had known exactly what Lance would say when he saw him again. Knew it from the moment the brunette had tapped on the Audi window and woken the pair up. Had confirmed it when he saw the way his eyes widened when they’d tried to pull apart, only to find their shirts crusted together by the proof of what had happened in that backseat. Was further proven correct by the wicked smile that had stretched across his features as he’d waggled his eyebrows at him through the slightly fogged glass.

All Lance needed was an opening to accost him with every single question and remark his mind could supply, and then probably a few more once he’d been given time to think on it.

So, like any self-respecting human being would have done, he avoided Lance at all costs.

In the near three months since the events of The Party and The Street— “I will not refer to it as Blowjob Street, Keith—” he carefully devised plans that would keep him as far away from the brunette as possible. Showing up to class at the last possible moment so he would need to sit on the opposite side of the room, ignoring party invites, and even going as far as to change one of his routes around campus, Keith had managed to prevent the onslaught of innuendo and incessant badgering that came promised by Lance’s mere existence.

After the semester was up, he had thought he’d been in the clear.

Allowing himself to be lulled into a false sense of security had been his first mistake.

His second, had been not reading the contacts on the group text with the travel itinerary.

His third, had been not turning and running the second he’d seen the devilish twinkle in Lance’s eyes when he’d realized they were about to spend 14 hours trapped together in a forty-something year old metal death trap on wheels.

“I think that’s a bit too much info there, buddy,” Lance’s friend, Hunk, said. His chocolate eyes were filled with all the apology Lance would never give as they flicked between the brunette sitting next to him in the middle row, and the roiling body of darkness in the back.

“Honestly, though,” Matt’s sister, Katie— “Call me Pidge, Angry Eyebrows—” added from beside Keith. All he could see of her over the wall of her data abstractions text book was the array of tawny hair and the rim of her too big glasses.

Keith had recognized both her and Hunk from the last game, the reality of how small his world really was only adding to the suffocating feeling that had slowly begun to crush him the moment he’d seen the group standing around the rented 70s VW van. A small part of him drew a parallel between himself and a python’s dinner.

That, however, was a bit dramatic even for his tastes.

“Don’t make me turn this car around!” Shiro’s best friend and possible co-conspirator Matt yelled from the driver seat, pitching his voice low as if it would somehow make the overused joke funnier.

In a twist of events that surprised absolutely no one, it didn’t.

“We’re so close to our final destination, please just keep it together for 30 more minutes,”

Allura added from the passenger seat as she rubbed her temples in exasperation. Keith would have felt bad for the former cheerleader if he didn’t know that the reason Lance was there had been her doing.

_“You didn’t tell me Lance was going to be here,” Keith had hissed into the phone as he squatted behind the van in an attempt at privacy during one of their rest stops._

_“He isn’t that bad, Cherry Bomb,” Shiro had said as he’d laughed his stupidly attractive laugh. “Besides, Allura invited him.”_

Allura’s annoyance was the only solace he got, her mental anguish carving a small smile into the corners of his mouth. He didn’t deserve to be the only one suffering, after all.

Pushing himself down further into the worn, cracked embrace of the van’s backseat, Keith turned his attention to the passing landscape outside. The reds and browns of their desert town had faded long ago into the greens and grays of the mountains that ran between where they’d left and where they were going. After having been bounced around from home to home in the foster system, Keith had thought he’d seen all the different environments that the continental US had to offer. Yet as he watched the slate rock and emerald vegetation blur into the blue of the unending sky, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d ever thought he’d seen anything so beautiful.

Of course, it probably helped that his mind continued to draw comparisons between the ashy colored stone and a certain pair of stormy eyes.

It had been almost a month since he and Shiro had made things official on his leather couch, and it still felt too good to be true. It had to be, in fact, because Keith had never been that lucky in his life.

Hadn’t ever even deserved that kind of luck.

Everything in him told him that any moment, Shiro would realize his mistake and cut and run. He wasn’t even sure he could fault him for that either.

Yet, while he continued waiting for the other shoe to drop, it never did.

Each time Keith went to pick up Shiro after practice, he was met with the same smile that he was certain the quarterback had saved just for him. (Filled with all the same warmth as the sun stuffed within his chest, and twice as bright.)

Whenever he called for their goodnights on the off chance Keith wasn’t staying with him, he was met with the fond voice Shiro tended to fall into whenever they spoke. (Lucious as ripened fruit, and twice as sweet.)

Every time he woke up beside him, he was met with the same tender kiss pressed to his crown. (Delicate as a butterfly’s wing, and twice as soft.)

For all intents and purposes, things were perfect.

“Hey, Keith, are you going to give Shiro some good luck sugar before the game?”

Well, as perfect as they could be now that Keith would be forced to exact some form of revenge in retaliation for this affront to his very existence.

Without acknowledging Lance’s remark, Keith unlocked his phone, barely giving it enough time to register his thumbprint before he’d removed his finger to open the messages app. Automatically pulling up his last text thread, Keith’s thumbs flew over the screen as he tapped out a message for one “QB<3”

**youre dead to me**

He watched as the small “delivered” below the message changed to read almost instantly, Shiro’s low chuckle playing like his favorite record in his mind as he imagined the football player shaking his head fondly at his phone. Barely seconds passed before the three dots of response came to life, and even less time between their disappearance and Shiro’s reply.

Keith had to bite his cheek to stop his smile that threatened to crack his permanent scowl in half as he read the words.

**I can’t wait to see you too ( ˘ ³˘)♥**

*******

There was something to be said about patience. It was supposed to be a virtue. It was supposed to yield focus. It probably was the single reason there weren’t a higher number of murders in this world.

Patience was great.

Unfortunately, it was a concept lost on Keith. It was somewhere between the exit for their hotel and his rock, paper, scissors defeat that landed him in a room with Lance and Hunk that he realized he would never qualify as a saint.

Sitting on the corner of one of the two queen sized beds they’d been supplied, he was currently wondering how much force would be needed to push Lance through the double glass window of their hotel room. The cityscape served as the brunette’s backdrop, teasing Keith with all its concrete and glass glory, as Lance laid out plans as if he was closer to an army general rather than a college third year. He was saying something about a party he’d somehow managed to plan for the next day.

_"My Kickass Devils Pre Pregame Party, keep up, Keith.”_

Whatever it was called, it had all droned into a constant hum as he sat there, watching him and Hunk bounce ideas off each other so excitedly, he wasn’t even sure he could have kept up even if he wanted to.

While Keith had appreciated Hunk’s existence for the sheer fact he made for a great buffer between Lance and just about everyone else, he clearly played into Lance’s highly excitable nature. Which, meant that Keith was in for a very long three days.

Then, as if to drive the final nail into his coffin, a balled up paper bounced off the center of his forehead and landed gently in his lap.

“Are you listening?” Lance asked, crossing his arms over the Garrison University logo emblazoned across his chest. Carefully scooping the projectile up, Keith looked at it carefully in his palm before he turned his hardened gaze towards his attacker. His mental target zeroed in on the space between his eyes, turning bright red as it locked on.

“No,” he deadpanned as he flicked the crumpled paper with the same deadly accuracy of a sniper. Lance flinched as the ball hit him.  _Bullseye._

“I was saying,” the brunette said, emphasizing the last word as he rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “That maybe you could get Shiro to come out and play for a bit.”

Now, Keith had a few words he had planned for the quarterback. Even had a few methods of revenge sorted away in mental blueprints in the back of his mind. But none of them ended with Shiro subject to one of Lance’s infamous parties the night before the National Championship.

Partially, because if Shiro went, than Keith would automatically be subjected to the same party. Partially, because he refused to be the reason that the Garrison Devils would lose the most important game they’d played.

Mostly, because he just liked Shiro too much to do that to him.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Keith said, adding an exaggerated eye roll for effect. The response earned him a scandalized gasp as the brunette raised a hand to his sternum is overdramatic shock.

“Such language,” he said, barely containing his smile as he spoke. “But really, you have to get him out there. He’s basically the star of this whole thing.”

Keith had always known that Lance wasn’t always the best at prioritizing things. When asked about the top three things he wanted from the university, he’d listed hot babes and legendary keggers before degree. So it shouldn’t have shocked him at all the Lance somehow thought that his party should be anywhere on Shiro’s radar.

Yet, as his gaze shifted between the two 20-somethings stood before him, he found himself surprised all the same. Apparently, Lance had found his new low.

“It would be kind of cool,” Hunk said with noncommittal shrug as he turned toward his best friend, ignoring the look of utter betrayal that turned Keith’s eyes dark.

 _Et tu, Brute_ , he thought sardonically as he pushed himself up from where he sat. Suddenly, the room felt smaller than the damn van had, and if he didn’t get out of there, no one was making it out alive. He’d find a way to get all three of them out that damned window.

“Leave Shiro out of your one man journey for liver destruction,” he said, voice pitched low as he jabbed a finger in Lance’s direction like a sharpened knife instead of his own dull pointed digit. A beat of silence passed between them before the brunette’s eyes grew large, sparkly mirth turning the blue into a vapid pool of idiotic glee.

Ignoring the strangled sound Lance made as he attempted to swallow his laughter, Keith spun on his heel with a huff and headed for the door.

“Dude, what was that about?” He heard Hunk ask under his breath as he fought with the multiple locks on the hotel door. Somehow, even those were managing to piss him off.

“There are two things Keith is very serious about,” Lance said as he finally threw the door open.

“Shiro, and football.”

Slamming shut behind him, the door created a barrier between him and his temporary roommates, giving him the sweet, sweet relief of silence. For the first time that day, Keith found himself blissfully alone. Sighing loudly, he started to head down the carpeted hall toward the elevators.

He was certain this hotel situation was going to be the end of him. There weren’t many people he could stand to live with, let alone could stand to live with him. He had had this revelation shortly after his first semester, when the first— and consequently last— roommate he’d ever had had fulfilled his turn at toilet paper duty by stealing half used rolls from public restrooms around campus. It had been a near blood bath as Keith vowed to never share his space again.

Granted, he supposed he was technically living with Shiro. But that hardly counted.

The elevator dinged as the metal doors opened, allowing him entrance. Stabbing at the lobby floor button, he leant against the glass wall of the machine, letting his head lull against the cool surface as he gazed into his own amethyst glare.

Admittedly, he was being a bit dramatic about the whole thing. There were ways that it could be worse. He couldn’t quite think of how at the current moment, but he was sure they were there.

Of course, there were also ways for it to be better.

At that precise moment, the lift shuddered to a stop, the door opening into the finely decorated foyer. It was there that the upside he’d been hoping for presented itself handsomely in the form of a buff quarterback standing idly in the hotel entryway. With one hand tucked into the pocket of his Nike sweats and the other tapping out a message on his phone, Shiro looked like some kind of miracle. With one brow arched, the right corner of his mouth pulled upward into a crooked grin as he typed, completely unaware of the eyes on him.

Keith was sure one day, he would stop being struck dumb by just how attractive Shiro was. Would, one day, become accustomed to the face that he was certain had been crafted by God himself as an apology for everything else he had gotten wrong.

One day, Shiro would stop leaving him breathless.

That day, was not today.

Because there the quarterback stood, an answer to all his angry prayers. Sure, it wasn’t a lightning strike that would take him and his retinue out, but Keith could argue that this was much, much better.

If there was anything Keith was sure of, Shiro could give him a smaller death that he could appreciate so much more.

A single buzz of his phone sent a shock through him, eliciting an embarrassingly high pitched sound from him as he was rocked out of his thoughts by a text alert. Looking up from his screen, Shiro’s half smile evolved into a full crescent when he saw Keith standing there.

“Well that was fast,” he drawled as he slipped the device into his pocket. Keith felt as his silver dusted gaze traced lines up and down his body, taking stock of him as if it hadn’t been just three days since they’d last seen each other.

In those stormy depths, there was a hunger that was all consuming. If Keith was a bit more poetic, he would say it reminded him of a blind man finally seeing a clear night sky.

He understood the feeling, because it was the very same stare he knew would be mirrored in his own amethyst stare.

A single shudder slid down his back like a water droplet, sending ripples out along his skin.

_God, he had missed him._

Quickly composing himself, Keith sauntered closer with an easy grin, shooting the football player a quick wink, and reveling in the way it caused Shiro’s smile to grow ever wider.

“So can I assume that message was summoning me?” He asked, mood instantly lightened by the mere proximity of his boyfriend. Once upon a time, he might have worried about the sudden 180 in his temper and what exactly the change meant. That pesky voice in his head danced carefully around a very heavy four-lettered word before Keith crushed it quickly.

There would be time to anguish over such implications later.

Right now, with Shiro’s silver eyes tempering into something darker and much more heated, Keith thought maybe this was exactly what he was really looking for when he’d stormed from his room.

“Amongst other things,” the quarterback replied, voice melting into innuendo. The effect of it was a lightning strike right to his very core, igniting a fire that quickly began to consume everything around it. If there were other people in the lobby, he would have to worry that they would be caught up in the smoke and flames.

_Were there people around them?_

God, Keith didn’t even care.

“Yeah? And what might those other things be, QB?” Keith asked, looking up through his lashes as he hooked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans, trying to adopt an air of innocence as he kept a teasing distance between them. 

Even with the space between them, he could feel the thickening of the air. He would even argue that he was already getting drunk off its heady nature.

“Just a couple things,” Shiro began, taking it upon himself to close the distance. “That I hoped you didn’t have any problems getting here.”

A pause as he dragged his eyes from where Keith’s, down over his bleach stained black shirt, over the frayed and torn denim of his black jeans, before snapping back up again.

“That I hoped Lance wasn’t dead yet.”

Reaching a hand forward, the quarterback brushed his fingers over the crest of Keith’s cheekbone, following the line back and then down so that those very same fingers cradled his chin. His thumb ghosted over his bottom lip as he continued to talk.

“That I missed your mouth.”

Pressing a chaste kiss to the pad of his finger, Keith opened his mouth just enough to take it into his mouth, running his tongue over the tip before pulling back.

“You got a bit of free time?” He asked, preening at the way Shiro’s pupils were already blown wide. On him, it was a deliciously contradictory look, filled with sin and predation when his mouth was upturned in the sweetest smile.

“I thought I was dead to you,” Shiro snarked back, just barely dodging as Keith made a swipe at his right arm as he pulled away.

“You can continue to be tomorrow, I’ve suffered enough today,” he said offhandedly, eyes scanning the lobby before landing on a nondescript door tucked into the corner. A devil’s smile exposed his teeth as he turned his attentions back to the quarterback.

“And I can think of one way for you to make it up to me.”

There hadn’t been much space that had stood between them and the public bathroom in the lobby. Keith estimated it to be no more than 25 feet that would have been cleared in a matter of moments. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t remember anything of getting from Point A to Point B as he heard the bathroom door bang shut, his focus on nothing else beside the heat of Shiro’s mouth against his.

“You know, we do have rooms we could go to,” Shiro said, voice caught in the murky grey between desire and humor as he pulled away just enough to say the words against his skin.

“Too far and too crowded,” was all Keith said as he reached blindly behind him, fingers flicking the lock deftly before he preoccupied them with much more important matters. That important matter being the back of Shiro’s hair as he twisted them into the velvet strands. It had already grown so much since they’d first met, and he loved it. Loved wrapping it around his fingers so he could anchor himself to the football player.

If the sounds he was making were any indication, it seemed Shiro loved it to.

Tongue licking into his mouth in a obscene display of all his needs and wants, Keith pressed his chest forward as if somehow he could get them closer. The gesture pulled a deep growl from deep within Shiro, its timbre vibrating through them both. Pushing forward, the football player slammed Keith’s back into the door behind him, arms braced on either side of his head. It knocked the breath from his lungs, the headiness dizzying as Shiro pulled away with a hiss.

The suddenness of the loss of contact left his head reeling as he looked up, the question falling from his tongue before he was even fully aware of what was happening.

“Are you okay?” It was only after he spoke that he noticed the way Shiro’s face had fallen into something mixed between pain and agitation. Breathing in through his nose as if steadying himself, he didn’t answer, only looking towards his right arm as if it would give him answers.

“Shiro?” Keith prodded, grasp loosening as his hands slid down to Shiro’s neck in a caress.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, steely eyes flashing back to meet his, all traces of discomfort gone as it was replaced by the same heated look like nothing had happened at all.

If Keith didn’t know better, he would have thought the reassurance wasn’t for his benefit, so much as for Shiro’s.

“Are you su—“ he started, only for the rest of his question to be stolen from his lips as Shiro pressed forward again, catching the fullness of his bottom lip between his teeth. Whatever it was he was going to ask found itself lost between them as Shiro continued his advance, filling all the space around Keith with a mixture of tongue and teeth until he couldn’t even remember why he had been angry in the first place.

_Had he been angry? What had he even been doing before this?_

With a mental shrug, Keith threw himself into the embrace. All that mattered now was Shiro, and the way his tongue was now tracing the vein in his neck with explicit care. Hands tracked the length of his body, sending waves of need rolling down his skin in their wake until Keith felt fingers bite into the back of his thighs. With a rueful tug, Shiro hiked his legs up so that he could wrap them around his waist, his weight pushed up against the bathroom door by the football player’s body.

“Takashi,” his breath hitched into the open space of the bathroom, heavy lidded eyes barely picking up the pristine white of the polished room. It was nearly clinical how shiny and modern it looked, a complete juxtaposition of the intimate nature to which he was pressed against its entrance by the university’s star. If he wasn’t so far lost within the feel of Shiro grinding into his denim clad hips, he might find it in him to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Of course, it was then that the football player’s hands found their way to the button of his jeans. Biting into the soft skin where his ear met the square of his jaw, any and all coherent thought he had left was stolen from him by that sinful mouth.

“Fuck,” he bit out, grasping at the back of Shiro’s shirt in search of any purchase as if he could somehow drag them closer together. Shiro was everywhere at once, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Keith wasn’t sure it would ever been enough.

A breathy chuckle sent a cool flush against the abused skin.

“Am I out of the dog house yet?” Shiro asked as he pulled on the zipper before dipping his hand into the waistband of Keith’s boxer briefs, dragging a needy whine from so deep within him. Unable to speak, he rolled his hips up into the contact, nodding into the crook of the football player’s throat. Shiro’s large hand brushed against his cock with a tenderness befitting something much more fragile as he chuckled again.

“Good, because I have a question for you,” he said, swiping a tentative thumb over his head.

“That sounds ominous, QB,” Keith bit out as stars exploded in his vision at the touch, letting his head fall back against the door so he could look up at him. The once silver gaze was pitch black as he gave a gentle twist of his palm, earning him a filthy moan that he promptly captured with his mouth.

Bucking up into his palm, he licked behind Shiro’s teeth, pouring himself entirely into the kiss. Loud gasps filled the single bathroom as the football player continued to pump his fist between them, his own hips moving with the same rhythm as he rutted up into Keith.

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed before Shiro pulled away, Keith instinctively following as he continued to pull his orgasm from him. The buildup had begun to grow like an expanding star just behind his belly button as Shiro’s fist picked up its pace, his palm slicked by precum.

He was so close.

Shiro dropped small kisses over Keith’s cheek, lips brushing over the rise of his cheekbone towards his ear as his hand took him apart. It wasn’t until he felt the gentle touch of his mouth at his ear that he came into Shiro’s fist, his orgasm sending pulsing waves of heat outward from his gut to the crown of his head and down to the tips of his toes.

“Will you go to our banquet with me tomorrow?” Shiro whispered, breath blowing the strands of hair tucked around his ear until they tickled his skin. Molten lava was slowly working its way through him as he picked apart Shiro’s words, shaking his head slowly at how familiar the inquiry felt.

“Are you only ever going to ask me to go to things when one of us has our dick out?” Keith asked, voice lacking any real heat as he rode the waves of his afterglow. Pressing his face into Shiro’s neck, he felt his laugh more than he heard it.

“Depends, Cherry Bomb, will you say yes if I don’t ask when dicks are involved?” Somewhere, nestled in the words, was a much deeper question. Keith wasn’t known for his openness, or his forwardness. Shiro’s acceptance of that had been what made them work in the first place. The quarterback was so understanding of Keith’s shortcomings, that he had even found that the best way to ask him for anything was when there was a distraction. This softened the blow for all parties involved.

Somewhere in the words, Shiro was asking if Keith was ready to be asked without those distractions.

The answer?

“Yes,” Keith replied simply, smile playing over his kiss darkened lips. “To both.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it still earned him a blinding smile that stole the breath he’d just barely caught.

“Okay,” Shiro said before he pressed his lips to Keith’s once more, this time in a chaste, sweet kiss that didn’t quite belong with the feel of drying cum caught between them. Yet, it seemed all too fitting for their relationship filled with juxtaposition. Deep in his chest, he felt his heart swell against the cage of his ribs.

That small voice danced around the damned four letter word again as he put a a bit more pressure into the kiss.

_Shut up._

Untangling his legs from around Shiro’s waist, Keith dragged his palms over his shoulders and down to his biceps, using his new hold to slowly push them both further into the room until Shiro’s back hit the opposite wall.

With a rueful grin, and a pointed wink, he dropped to his knees before the quarterback.

“My turn.”

A small sound bubbled out of Shiro as Keith made quick work of his sweats, the moment of pain, the banquet and that stupid voice all but forgotten.

***

Of all the bad ideas that Keith has ever had, agreeing to go with Shiro to his football banquet was at the very top. It was even ahead of the time he’d decided he could cut his own hair, which had been so bad, he’d had to start telling people he’d purposefully fashioned his hair into a mullet.

Which, for the record, he hadn’t.

Every other bad idea he’d ever had in his life was a distant memory as he found himself sat between two of Shiro’s teammates, both far larger than he was as they tried to keep him looped into their conversation. The quarterback had disappeared about 10 minutes beforehand to setup for his captain’s speech, leaving the two defensive linemen with explicit instruction to make sure Keith was kept entertained. It was a sweet really, except it had only managed to amp up his anxiety to a hard 11 as the two men continued to chatter away.

Not, that he hadn’t already shown up to the event a solid tangle of anxious nerves. It had all started to go downhill that morning, when he had realized that, by some cruel twist of fate and divine intervention, he didn’t actually have anything to wear to a banquet.

 _You can’t show up to a suit and tie affair in that tragedy_ , Lance had said, doing his best to peer over Keith’s shoulder at his reflection.

 _I have to agree, Keith, that won’t do at all,_  Allura had chimed in, barely even looking up from the  list of alcohol and mixers she and Lance had just finished compiling.

It was hardly Keith’s fault he hadn’t been prepared for any kind of banquet. Being unaware of it had been his only saving grace as the party planning couple had both worked together to find him something much more acceptable.

By the time he stood in the lobby waiting for Shiro, he had been thrown into a crimson button up that Lance had happened to have with him, and a pair of black jeans that, while not dress wear, were much nicer than what he’d originally tried to pass off. Allura had managed to tame his hair, styling it back with pomade so that his bangs no longer fell in his face, exposing the high arch of his cheeks and the sharp line of his jaw.

Admittedly, they had worked a miracle, refining all of Keith’s unpolished edges until he was what one might even call beautiful. He almost hadn’t recognized the person staring back at him in the mirrored walls of the elevator on his way down.

Even though it had worked him into a ball of anxious nerves with an itching for his next nicotine fix, he did owe them.

Not, that he would ever tell them that.

Their intervention had earned him a sparkling smile that had set off the kind of cataclysmic events that led to the creation of universes. Sparks and explosions had burst against the bone until they’d created a swirling galaxy that had threatened to tear him apart.

Shiro, of course, looked phenomenal in his suit. Going simple, his black on black ensemble left all statement to be made by the quarterback’s face. Looking at him had felt like looking up at the unending expanse of stars on a clear night.

Awe inspiring and almost too great to handle.

It had been there, standing in the hotel lobby, that the small voice that had been whispering to him grew louder. Had pitched itself into a near scream as he’d taken in the very look that Shiro had fixed him with, so filled with light, and happiness and something else. Something that left him feeling too big for the very skin he wore. Something that he knew was mirrored in his own, softened expression.

Something that Keith couldn’t quite ignore anymore.

Something like lo—

“— a great guy.”

Snapping from the depths of his thoughts, Keith was dumped straight back into the present. The football player to his right looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised as if he was waiting for a reply.

If only he knew what he’d said.

“Yes?” Keith said slowly, the word more of a question than an actual answer in hopes that it was the right one. The player— Kolivan — only nodded in agreement, seemingly pleased with his reply.

“I don’t think he’s has ever brought anyone to any of these functions,” Kolivan’s companion— Ulaz— chimed in, smiling at Keith with all the same allure of a shark. He was sure the defensive lineman was perfectly nice, but everything seemed just a bit more intimidating when tucked in a banquet hall and wrapped up in ties.

“Don’t think he’s ever liked anyone enough,” Kolivan mused, his large jaw rolling as he bit down on his own grin.

“Or, maybe he doesn’t like you at all, if he wanted to subject you to us.” It was teasing. The same kind of alpha dog behavior that he had braced for when he’d first met Shiro at the party months ago. Problem was, then it had been spectacularly hot, the dance for dominance only serving as foreplay that had ended Keith on his back in an Audi.

Now, it felt a lot more like a gladiator match. One that he was losing at that.

“Must be that one,” Keith said, filling his voice with grit as an automatic response to being the butt of a joke. “It’d explain so much.”

A loud choking sound ripped itself out of Kolivan as he tried to swallow his laugh, failing spectacularly as he eyed the newcomer.

“Seriously though, Shirogane really likes you,” he said, voice tempering into honesty once he’d worked his mirth into a calm state. “He’s pretty serious, that one. Only time I’ve ever seen him smile was after he was named captain. What about you, Ulaz?”

Passing the verbal baton, Keith could feel the pressure of something heavy settling itself on top of his chest as the player on his left spoke.

“Nope, that was the only time,” he affirmed, eyes looking over him curiously now as he spoke, all joking gone completely from his darkened eyes, leaving nothing but unadulterated admiration. “He cares a lot about the team, and we care a lot about him, you know?”

“Is this the part where you threaten me?” Keith deadpanned, ignoring the way Lance’s shirt had begun to tighten around his throat.

“No,” Ulaz continued with sincerity. “Wanted to thank you, actually. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

Somehow, that was worse.

Because that opened the door for that damned voice. Rearing itself angrily over the voices around him, it screamed the word he’d been so careful to avoid.

L-O—

The dull tapping of a hand against a microphone silenced the voice and all else in the room as everyone’s attention turned toward the front of the hall. Standing there at a podium, was Shiro. Under the lights, he cast an enchantment over the room, the apex of its power landing directly over Keith’s heart as he felt the silver gaze find him, accompanied by that secret smile only he knew.

Everything began to close in around him. The room, his clothes, the space that separated him from the football players flanking him. It was stifling, and he would have killed for a breath of fresh air. Honestly, any sort of air as long as it wasn’t there.

So, with the collar of his borrowed shirt tightening in an utmost threatening manner, Keith did what any self respecting guy in the middle of an existential crisis would do.

With one final look over his shoulder and a thin excuse on his lips, he ran.

“Damn,” Keith moaned around a puff of smoke, the word disappearing into the night air before he took another drag from his cigarette.

Luck had been in his favor as he found the front of the hotel blissfully deserted aside from a line of cement benches outlooking the courtyard. Not, that he guessed he could have been too shocked by that.

Half of the hotel was comprised of the football team, who were all still listening to Shiro’s captain speech with rapt attention.

The other half were fans that were caught in a life and death battle with some booze at Lance’s party in the pool area.

He was going to call it luck, nonetheless, if only to make himself feel a little bit better.

Exhaling his anxieties with another rush of grey clouds, Keith bit down onto the meat of his bottom lip, enjoying the way the prick of his teeth kept his thoughts from the precarious edge they’d just been dangling over.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think that anything more was in the cards with Shiro. In fact, he’d argue that he’d known from the start that what they had wasn’t ever going to be casual, no matter how hard he’d tried to lie to himself. That didn’t make the admission of his feelings any easier. It still weighed on his tongue with all the heaviness of something much large than just four simple letters.

Jesus Christ. He was in lo—

“Not a fan of speeches either, huh?” Shiro’s voice carving through the din of his thoughts, cutting them down at the knees and leaving them mortally wounded. Inhaling one last drag from the nearly spent cigarette butt, Keith ground the cherry out on the cement beside him before he let the breath out straight up into the starless sky.

“Just needed some air is all,” he said, not looking at Shiro as he made his way around the bench for fear he wouldn’t be able to look away. Actually, he knew he wouldn’t.

“Want to talk about it?” Shiro asked, concern pitching his words into something almost too sweet for him to handle. It sent his heart into a spasm that Keith refused to acknowledge as something so cliche as it skipping a beat.

Sure, he would like to talk about it if it didn’t mean spilling his guts onto the concrete. Shrugging with feigned nonchalance, Keith’s gaze dragged itself to the quarterback as he heard his world weary sigh. God, he was so beautiful.

He felt his heart stutter again.

“How about this, Cherry Bomb,” Shiro said softly, dropping himself onto the bench beside him, knee knocking into Keith’s and sending a ripple up to his core. “I’ll trade you. I’ll tell you something if you tell me something.”

Leaning back onto his left arm, Shiro turned his gaze towards the sky as he rested his right in his lap. He looked completely at ease, and yet Keith could see the way the corner of his mouth turned down slightly in the way it did when something was on his mind. That very corner managed to erect columns of fear twisting insidiously through his gut.

“I’ll sweeten the deal and go first,” he said, silver flashing with the light of the hotel’s exterior lights as he stole a glance of the silent man beside him. Heat and electricity started to crackle over his skin with the same ominous caress of an oncoming storm. He could feel it brewing, and knew there was no way of stopping it.

His collar tightened further.

“Shiro,” Keith breathed, heart hammering a dent into his sternum as he looked over the football player.

“Deal?”

That four letter word— of an entirely different design than the one plaguing him— held just as much weight as Shiro awaited his answer. A comfortable quiet befell them as he allowed Keith all the time to decide. Just as the football player always did, he gave him all the room to make the decision. To decide if he was comfortable.

Nodding slowly, unable to form any words around the stone that had grown deep in his throat, Keith watched as Shiro turned to face him.

“I fucked up my shoulder,” Shiro sighed, nodding his towards his right arm. “Did it a couple practices ago and I thought it would get better, but it hasn’t.”

The image of Shiro’s pained expression in the lobby bathroom sparked across his mind’s eye as the football player continued.

“And it sucks, Keith,” his words edged towards harsh as he pushed them through his teeth, the pain of his admission clear with each strained syllable. “What if I let them down? What if I let everyone down?”

Looking up through his lashes, Shiro fixed his steel laced stare on Keith. Deep within them he saw raw fear. The fear of a leader with everything to lose resting square on his shoulders.

“What if I fail?”

Everything else was so trivial in the face of the quarterback’s question. It was such a small, silly thing to ask, especially since Keith knew better. Shiro wouldn’t fail, that he wholeheartedly believed. If his short time with Shiro’s teammates taught him anything, it was that they believed it too. So it didn’t make any sense that the one person that needed to believe it, didn’t.

Reaching up slowly, Keith gently placed on hand on either side of Shiro’s neck, swallowing a small sound of content as he pushed into the touch. Thumbs soothing over the skin of his cheeks, he pushed himself forward until their foreheads met with a soft knock.

“You aren’t going to let anyone down,” he said lowly, their noses brushing as he anchored the quarterback to Earth. “You never could. Your teammates look up to you. They respect you, and they believe in you.”

Keith pressed his lips to Shiro’s with fond tenderness, the quarterback’s mouth opening slightly with a gasp as he shuddered beneath his touch. Pulling back just enough for his words to escape, he continued.

“I believe in you, Takashi.”

He filled his words with all the same intensity of their true meaning. The ones that had been battering themselves against the back of his teeth, aching to be freed of their confines. Sitting back, Keith maintained his soft hold on the quarterback, his fingers brushing against the slightly hardened strands of his gel styled hair. What he wanted to say, and what he needed to say, were waging a war in the base of his throat as his mauve gaze held onto silver, heat creeping up his neck under Shiro’s fierce stare.

“Win or lose tomorrow, it won’t change any of that. Your team will still follow you and I’ll still—”

There they were. Staring him down with all the same strength as the grey sea tides caught in Shiro’s eyes.

 _And I’ll still love you_.

Still, because if there was anything he’d come to realize, it was that was the name of the emotion that left him vulnerable and raw. Left him open to Shiro and only Shiro.

Because somewhere during their morning coffees, their reality show marathons, their post practice pickups and the late nights with him breathing Shiro’s name into the darkness, Keith had fallen in love. It hadn’t been hard and fast, like he had been led to believe, but it had been so slow and eventual that it had happened with all the same ease of the inevitable.

He,  _loved_  Shiro.

Shiro, who was looking at him with his guard down, offering up his insecurities with complete trust. Here was a leader, so used to shouldering everyone else’s burdens, he had dismissed his own until they’d eaten away at him.

“Keith?” The quarterback said, trepidation coloring his tone a murky grey as he began to pull back, the moment shattering around them before Keith slid his hands down from his neck and to his collar. Fisting his fingers in the fabric, he held him in place.

“And I’ll still love you.”

Silence fell over the pair, not even the wind creating a sound as Shiro stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Heat dragged color up his neck and into his cheeks as Keith began to count the seconds that passed without response.

One, two, three, shit.

“Look, I’m not good at emotions, and I think you probably knew that,” he started to blunder, words rushing out of him into near incoherent blabbering. “So, I mean, I’m here, Shiro. I’m here and I always wi—”

And then Shiro’s mouth was on his, swallowing the rest of his words with a fevered kiss. Licking into his shell shocked mouth, he stole whatever else Keith was going to say and pushed it down within himself before pulling away with a small pop.

“Love, huh?” He said, voice brusque with mirth and something a little heavier than fondness.

“Shut up,” Keith pouted, loosening his grip so that he could cross his arms over his chest. “I was just saying that no matter what, tomorrow, you’ll still have your team. And you’ll still have me.”

Another silence fell as Shiro just stared at him, his eyes becoming cashmere. In that moment, he was everything soft and warm as his mouth curved upwards, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

There was Keith’s favorite smile.

“I love you too, Cherry Bomb,” he said finally, chasing the words as he closed the distance between them once more. This time, the kiss was sweet, a simple pressing of their lips that somehow managed to make Keith’s toes curl. A strange fizzling sensation worked its way through his veins, making his limbs feel buoyant and his chest light as he replayed the words over and over in his head.

_I love you too._

“Want to get out of here?” Shiro asked, the question all to familiar as Keith grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together as he stood.

“God, yes.”

This time, out of here turned out to be Shiro’s hotel room. There were a great many perks to being captain, and apparently his own room was one of them.

“So this is what you meant yesterday,” Keith said before biting his lip as Shiro sucked his mark over the vein in his neck. They had barely made it into the room before the quarterback had found that spot he favored, making quick work of the buttons on his borrowed shirt. If he wasn’t so far lost to Shiro’s ministrations, he could probably think of some use for said shirt in the name of revenge.

But Shiro’s mouth was unforgiving, and, well, Keith had better things to think about right now than Lance.

“Mmhm,” he hummed in affirmation, his breath cooling the slick, brutalized skin and sending a shock of goosebumps racing down his body. Hands roamed up the expanse of his exposed torso, fingers brushing over his nipples and pulling a moan from deep within him.

“There’s my favorite sound,” Shiro crooned as he dragged his hands down over Keith’s heated skin, only stopping once his fingers dug into the meat of his hips with a bruising pressure as he lead them blindly toward the large bed in the middle of the room.

Capturing Keith’s mouth in another raw kiss, Shiro traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before pulling it between his teeth and biting. The result was another breathy moan that made the football player smile into the kiss. Even without being able to see it, Keith knew it was a sinful, sinful thing.

“Shut up,” Keith laughed around the sound as they made it to the bed, Shiro huffing lowly as the back of his knees hit the mattress. Pulling further away, he pressed his hand against Shiro’s chest, both to keep him at a distance and to push the larger man down onto the bed. Looking up with a question in his gaze and an argument on his tongue, Keith only lifted his chin towards the head of the bed, motioning him to pull himself further onto the mattress.

Whatever inquiry the quarterback had thought of making died within his throat as Keith fixed him with a hungry gaze as he let his shirt slip off his shoulders and fall to the floor. Shuffling back until he hit the wood of the hotel grade headboard, Shiro began working on his own clothing, fingers deftly undoing buttons and zippers as Keith worked himself out of the rest of his ensemble.

Only when he stood before the football player on full display, did he make his move, carefully crawling into his lap so that he straddled Shiro’s thighs, his hands braced by the wooden board behind his head.

“Keith,” Shiro sighed, his naked chest heaving with anticipatory breath as he looked up at him. The black of his pupils had eaten away at the silver of his eyes, leaving them a deep pool of need and primal hunger. It was a look that made Keith’s thighs shiver as he dipped in quick enough to drop a kiss to the blunt edge of Shiro’s scar, only to lean away again before he could try and catch his mouth.

Arching his brow, Keith wagged a finger at him as his lips pulled back over his canines.

“No touching, QB,” he said, grinding his hips down into the football player’s if only to hear the choked sound it elicited. “We wouldn’t want to overwork you before the big game, now would we?”

“Keith.” This time, his name was trapped between a plea and a growl, the edges of it roughened into something sharp.

“Yes?” He asked, leaning back and looking down the tip of his nose as he dragged his palms up his ribs, one stopping to toy with the nub of a nipple as the traced over the darkening marks that decorated his throat. With another roll of his hips, his felt himself rub against Shiro’s hardened length, the quarterback’s own hips bucking up into him at the contact. Inhaling sharply in an almost pained manner, Keith had to bite down on the edge of his smile as he watched him fist his hands into the sheets.

“You’re diabolical,” Shiro finally groaned, his gaze tempered into steel as it followed his hands, his right still coaxing his nipple to hardness as his left traveled back down to palm at his dick.

“You love it,” he moaned as his hips lazily twitched upwards into his own hand, his eyelids fluttering as he searched for the delicious friction he desired.

“I do.”

Heat erupted behind his belly button, creating a vortex of need and want that left him near breathless as he looked down at the football player beneath him.

Shiro’s eyes were liquor, sending drunken waves coursing through his body as Keith ran his hands down his own body as he held the quarterback’s darkened gaze. With he the way he looked at him, mouth slightly parted as if in awe, he would think he was made entirely of gold.

Ignoring the anguished sound that stuck itself to the inside of Shiro’s throat, Keith took himself into his hand, his other running over the quarterback’s abs before stopping over his rapidly beating heart. Stroking lightly, thumb brushing over his slit while his other simultaneously traced the circle of Shiro’s nipple, Keith bit into his bottom lip.

“Is this how you’d do it, Shiro?” He asked through his moan, twisting slightly and trying to ignore the precum that was slicking his fingers. Shiro’s hips bucked up against him, his own dick rubbing against his knuckles as he searched for anything to rut against. Curling his fingers to run his nails down Shiro’s skin, he left red lines marking where he’d been.

“Fuck, Keith,” the football captain breathed, the skin over his knuckles turning a stark white as he clutched at the fabric of the sheets. Before him, he had a front row seat to Shiro’s undoing, his mouth agape as he breathed heavily as if he already had Keith pressed face first into the pillows. It was thrilling as it sent his darkened desire flowing through every last inch of his being until he was filled with nothing else.

God, he fucking loved him.

“Or would you start elsewhere?” Keith hummed, barely able to swallow his own need as he ran his free hand up the expanse of Shiro’s skin, only stopping when his fingers found his mouth. Answering the silent question in his eyes, Shiro licked over the pads of his fingers, tongue darting around them before sucking them into his mouth for good measure.

Pulling them away, slicked completely and dripping, Keith leant in to catch Shiro’s lips with his own as he traced his entrance with the newly wetted digits. Licking into his mouth, he slowly pushed a finger inside, reveling in the sharp pressure as he gasped into the kiss.

“Please, Keith,” Shiro moaned into his mouth, body pushing forward into him as if he was fighting against invisible restraints keeping him in place. “Let me touch you.”

Working his finger inside himself, Keith tried to swallow another guttural sound that rumbled in his throat as he shook his head.

“Not yet, baby,” he crooned as he added another finger, twisting as he pushed back against the slight pain. Hips shallowly fucking into his own digits, Keith continued to work himself open before the football player, free hand brushing over whatever skin he blindly found as he greedily stole kisses.

Shiro was obedient, keeping his hands stubbornly glued to his sides as he panted into whatever Keith allowed. Hips rutting up against his boyfriend and skin on fire, he lasted far longer than even he could have imagined.

It wasn’t until Keith had managed a third finger, his moan a near sob as he choked out his name, that he finally broke.

“God dammit,” he cursed, voice filled with grit as he wrapped an arm around Keith’s waist. The suddenness of the movement forced an almost embarrassing sound from Keith as Shiro’s hold tightened, forcing his body closer so they sat chest to chest as he pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shiro growled, peppering kisses all the way down to his throat where he began to nip and suck was the skin as he rolled his hips, brushing their cocks together and stealing Keith’s senses.

“Shiro,” he breathed, his hands finding the football player’s hair as he returned the favor. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” Shiro asked as he licked a long stripe over the collarbone just over his heart. Keith was certain he could feel the way it stuttered at the contact, though, he wasn’t quite sure if he cared.

In that moment there was really only one thing he cared about, and that thing was clutched between his two hands.

“Fuck me,” he whined, unable to control the way he had to begun to buck against Shiro, his body taking it upon itself to find the friction he desperately yearned for.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro sighed, hand blindly grasping at the nightstand beside the bed, only stopping once he found the small plastic bottle he’d been looking for. Keith was only faintly aware of the small pop of the cap and the shuddering motions as Shiro slicked himself up with the lube, all too focused on sucking his own mark into the quarterback’s throat.

 _You are mine_ , he thought as he rolled the skin between his teeth.

_And I am yours._

Fingers clutched at his hips as Shiro shifted him closer, his slicked cock aligning with Keith’s entrance before he slowly pushed upwards into him. The drag of it made his eyes roll back, blinding him momentarily with the delicious ache of it all.

“Alright?” He asked as Keith quivered around him, thighs fluttering as he nodded, unable to speak around his greedy gasps as Shiro shallowly rocked up into him. It was then, that Shiro lost himself within the heat of their shared moment, his arms anchoring them together as he bucked up into Keith, cock brushing against his prostate and sending tremors throughout him.

They were earth shattering, breaking him apart from the inside out before putting him back together, only to do it all over again. Already chest-to-chest, Keith clutched at Shiro as if there were any possible way for them to get closer, his nails scratching into the skin of his neck and back. He could feel the ever expanding star that was burning his insides as he was sent closer to the edge with each solid smack of their hips meeting in time.

Light began to pop behind the backs of his eyelids as their breaths pitched themselves towards a keening high, Shiro’s laced with the hardened syllable of his name as Keith’s tickled over Shiro’s skin.

Tracking the vein in Shiro’s throat with his lips, Keith followed it down to the ball of his injured shoulder, dropping a tender kiss to the bone as the star finally went supernova, heat filling him as they both cried out into the darkened room.

Streaks of milky ribbon painted the football player’s chest as Keith road the high of his orgasm, his muscles fluttering around Shiro as he witnessed the birth of a star.

The sound of their shared pleasure settled around them, fading into comfortable silence as breathed against each other, Keith with his face still pressed to Shiro’s shoulder and Shiro with his mouth pressed to his throat.

Moments passed before he hummed lowly, gently kissing the bone at his shoulder once more before he pushed back, ignoring Shiro’s needy sound as he pulled away. With his fingers trembling slightly with the aftershocks of his pleasure, Keith pushed the white bangs from the quarterback’s eyes.

“You’re going to do great tomorrow, QB,” he breathed, letting all the certainty that he felt bleed into his voice. Beneath his hand, he saw Shiro smile his favorite smile.

“You really think so?” The football player asked, gently guiding Keith to the side, untangling their limbs and rearranging themselves so that he was tucked into his chest. Warmth rolled off his skin in waves as Keith burrowed into the embrace, reveling in the feel of Shiro’s arm heavy against his waist.

“I know so.”

Quiet fell over them like a blanket, their shared afterglow weighing on them as they lay pressed together in the dark, Shiro’s nose skimming over the soft skin at the back of his ear as he breathed him in.

“Hey,” Keith said as he pushed back into the embrace, placing his palm over the back of Shiro’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Hm,” Shiro hummed sleepily, his fingers squeezing slightly in acknowledgment.

“I love you.” God, did Keith mean it. With his entire being.

“I love you, too.”

He wished he could say it was the last thing he heard before he fell deep into the best sleep of his life, but it wasn’t. Instead, Keith fell asleep to the sound of a drunken voice slurring loudly as it passed their door.

“National Championships, baby!”

Somehow, he still fell asleep with a smile.

***

“Is he okay?” Keith heard Pidge ask just to his right, her voice nearly drowned out by the screams that had exploded through the stadium as the clock had ticked down and ushered in the start of the fourth quarter of the game.

“Okay may be a bit of a relative term here, Pidge,” Matt answered his sister. In his peripherals, Keith could see the brunette peering at him from around his sister as if he was a bomb ready to explode.

Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure he was that far off.

If they had asked him that morning, when he’d awakened to a note— Wear my colors? <3 QB— and Shiro’s home jersey, the answer would have been yes. He had been more than okay. In fact, he would argue he had reached Disney protagonist levels of happy.

The only thing that had been missing, were singing animals, but they were in a city so he could forgive them for their absence this time.

There had been a very unKeith-like pep in his step that had carried him from Shiro’s room to the continental breakfast where the rest of his travel companions had gathered. Keith could even argue that that only served to further enhance his good mood given for the first time since they’d met freshman year, he was the one making Lance’s eyes roll.

“You, of all people, shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy this early,” he’d whined into his scrambled eggs as he winced away from Keith’s loud greeting.

It had felt like his veins had been filled with Pop Rocks, the crackling candy filling him with a light air and sugary sweetness.

No, Keith hadn’t just been okay. He had been happy.

But now? At the start of the fourth quarter with the Garrison Devils and the Pasadena Marmora tied at 14-14? With just 14 minutes and 21 seconds for someone to pull ahead to clinch the titled of National Champions?

Keith was not okay.

In fact, he was certain he had a cracked rib from the constant, shattering pressure of his heart beating against it his rib cage. He’d watched the game closely, with all the same intensity of a hawk eyeing its prey, picking apart the other team’s faults and strengths until he’d compiled a meticulous mental list to compare against that of the Devils’ own faults and strengths.

What he had discovered, was that the teams were nearly identical in all forms, their defenses and offenses so well matched that the final outcome could only be quantified as a fight to the proverbial death.

Or, probably, his very real death.

Could someone die of a football induced heart attack when they weren’t even the one playing?

With his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped over his nose as if in some sort of prayer, Keith continued to cut angry marks into the field below. Both sides were bleeding back onto the field, the stark white of the Devils’ away jerseys contrasting brightly against the Marmora’s black. Light versus shadow in the most insidious way.

It was a match that made for the kind of game that Hollywood made sensationalized versions of. One that didn’t need the added drama of backstory because it was already worthy of ratcheting the viewers’ blood pressure into dangerous levels.

On the surface, Keith could appreciate that kind of game. Would even go as far to say as they were his favorite, if only because wins were that much sweeter when they were that hard fought. But he’d seen the way Shiro had rolled his right shoulder, left hand bracing it after each throw as if he could leach the pains from it with his own touch, and well, that had made it almost unbearable to watch.

Each opposing lineman was just another chance to a horrible end for the quarterback as they charged at him, all targets locked onto Shiro’s frame as they approached with all the single minded focus of a missile set to maim and destroy. The guard and fullback had done their job of protecting him, but with each play Keith watched as Shiro held onto the ball longer, his pauses further extending the opening for someone to sack him.

Biting on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, Keith remained laser focused on the back of Shiro’s jersey, tracing the orange 12 as he watched the play get called. As if in slow motion, he saw the formation break, the wide receiver cutting around the defense as the center snapped the ball back into Shiro’s hands. Chaos broke out as the dark jerseys ignored the solitary player, zeroing in on the quarterback as he pulled his arm back for a throw. From where he sat, he could see everything unfold, his purple gaze snapping towards one player in particular.

Marmora #73.

With the amount of players running toward Shiro, there was no way for his offense to properly protect him. It only stood to reason that someone would slip through the cracks.

But why did it have to be him?

Keith’s heart leapt up into his throat, turning his tonsils into a punching bag as it hammered against them as he watched the player made of muscle, and possibly cement, tackled Shiro.

Whether the blood rushing through his ears drowned out the sound of the stadium, or a hush had really fallen over the crowd, Keith wasn’t entirely sure as he watched the Marmora player’s shoulders rammed below his waist, sending Shiro tilting sideways to land directly on top of his right arm.

“Shiro!” He heard a loud cry pierce through the quiet, only to realize it had been his own as he’d leapt from his seat, staring down as the defensive lineman pulled himself up. Lying on the field, Shiro rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky as he clutched at his right shoulder. He watched in horrified silence as the trainers ran out to him, hands fretting over the quarterback as they asked him questions Keith could only guess at.

_Where does it hurt?_

_Can you move it?_

_Can you still play?_

“What the fuck, man, where were his defenders?” Lance asked to no one in particular as a cold drop of fear rolled over Keith’s spine. Shiro had gotten back up, but they were escorting him off the field and back to the lockers.

_What if I fail?_

Shiro’s question rang through his mind as he watched him disappear into the tunnel.

“Damn straight, that’s a penalty!” Hunk yelled as the ref announced an illegal block below the waist, resulting in the moving of the chains 15 yards and clinching the Devils an automatic first down. Yet all Keith could focus on was the spiraling tempest of anxiety that was battering against the walls of his insides.

Seconds ticked down on the clock as Keith fell back into his seat, eyes unseeing as he worried his lip between his teeth. No one would fault Shiro if his injury took him out of the game, but he knew well enough that the quarterback would beat himself up enough.

Only vaguely aware of the game as it continued, his focus dragged down the darkened tunnel and buried deep within the locker rooms beneath the stadium, he missed the changing of the ball from the Devils to the Marmora. Missed the way the opposing team ate up several of the minutes on the clock with long run plays that got them into field goal range.

He even missed when they made the kick that pulled them ahead 17-14.

“Let’s go, Devils!” Allura called, cheering as their offense took the field, all eyes on the clock that was counting down mercilessly from a minute and 37 seconds. Keith could feel the stinging burn of bile at the back of his throat as he continued to stare down the throat of the tunnel. All he needed was some sign that Shiro was okay.

It was as he considered just what he would need to do to sneak down to the locker rooms, that Keith saw movement at its entrance.

Sauntering slowly from the darkness, was Shiro. With his helmet clutched in his hand, he looked up at the crowd as it erupted into ear drum shattering cheers. A whistle signaled the Devils’ final timeout as the offense jogged off the field, their line still held back at their own 15-yard line. The cameras zoomed in on his face, mouth twisted down with determination as he joined the huddle. In an instant, the roiling turmoil of Keith’s fears were beat back as the Jumbotron caught Shiro’s reassuring smile before returning to a panned out shot of the field.

“C’mon, Takashi,” Keith breathed, leaning forward in his seat as if it would carry his words down towards the football player. With 45 seconds left on the clock, and the Devils held back on their own 15-yard line on third down, there wasn’t much time to pull ahead and win the game.

Watching the offense return to the field, eyes tracking Shiro all the while, Keith quickly assessed the options left open to them.

There weren’t many.

They would need to make a touchdown, and they would need to eat enough of the clock to guarantee the Marmora wouldn’t have enough time for a last second win. As if this game wasn’t stressful enough.

Hadn’t he sacrificed enough years of his life to this game already?

Biting at the skin at the corner of his thumb, he felt the familiar prick of anticipation as he watched each player set, waiting for the call as the play clock ticked down. It ticked down half of the leftover time until there were just 20 seconds left, the center hiking the ball just as it hit zero. Once again, the wide receiver pulled away from the crowd, running towards the goal line as Shiro pulled the ball back in preparation to throw.

“C’mon,” he muttered, leaning so far forward he was nearly doubled over as he watched in wait. This would be it. The all or nothing pass. Shiro was waiting until his receiver was in the end zone to throw the ball, gambling with the leftover time as the defense began to crowd around him. While it was a smart move, it was risky as it left him blatantly open again. He watched as each member of the Devils offense matched up with that of the Marmora defense, buying the quarterback the time he needed for his play.

Keith sucked in a sharp breath in time with the moment Shiro threw the ball forward.

Time and space suspended itself as he watched the perfect spiral of the ball as it arced through the air. Before him— and the thousands of other fans in the stadium— the Hail Mary sluiced high above the field as the defense ran towards the wide receiver in a vain attempt to get to him before the ball.

Then, all at once, it landed securely in the middle of his hands directly in the end zone as the clock reached zero.

“Yes!” He shouted, leaping up from his seat as he kept his gaze locked on the orange #12. The cheers were pitched to the same decibel level of a jet engine as the referees signaled the completion of a touchdown, securing the Devils’ win even without the additional point— though they got that too.

Bodies began to rush at the field, white and orange falling over the green of the turf as they ran out to greet the team. Caught up in the charge, Keith found himself amongst the throng, his shoes skidding over the plasticized grass as he left his companions behind.

“Shiro!” Keith cried out, pushing his way through the crowd with biting elbows and determination, eyes spotting the quarterback as he pulled his helmet off. Behind the grid of the mask, was a blinding smile as he caught sight of him making his way towards him.

“Are you okay?” His voice was breathless from his quick descent down to the field as his hands fretted over the football player, not sure where to touch in fear he would make anything worse.

“I’ll live,” Shiro replied cheekily, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist instead and pulling him tight into his chest. The impact forced his breath from him in a soft rush as he looked up into the soft cloud grey of the quarterback’s eyes. In them he a dancing light filled with joy and a warm heat that trailed forest fires down his spine.

“More importantly, I got you that championship,” he breathed, words laced with with tenderness as his mouth cracked wide in a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes.

“I never doubted that you would, QB,” Keith chuckled, running his hands up over the pads that protected Shiro’s chest, fisting his fingers into the fabric of his jersey. Without any further preamble, Keith pulled him down towards him so he could crush their lips together. A small, surprised sound erupted from the football player, a moment of tension drawing his body taut before he melted into the kiss. The space behind his sternum began to fizzle and crack as he opened up beneath the pressure of the kiss, pulling Shiro further into him as he licked behind his teeth.

Rowdy hoots exploded around them as Shiro nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away just enough to speak.

“So what’s a championship get me, Cherry Bomb?” He asked, the question ghosting over Keith’s crushed petal mouth in the most tantalizing manner. Looking up through his lashes, Keith saw nothing but Shiro as he asked himself that very same question. If it were up to him, he would give Shiro the world, all in exchange for the single glass trophy.

Hell, he would have fought to give him that much anyway.

Reaching up to caress the back of the quarterback’s sweat matted hair, his thumb brushed a reassuring line along the squared edge where his jaw and ear met.

“Anything,” he breathed as he pulled him back down, chasing his next word with another kiss.

“Everything.”

Elation filled his entire being as the weight of the win settling into his veins.

_Shiro had won him a championship._

And in return, on that field in front of everyone, Keith made sure that the quarterback knew he had his heart.

********************

**Author's Note:**

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